


The Asylum

by uvhopespot



Category: Flatland - Edwin A. Abbott, Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uvhopespot/pseuds/uvhopespot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill reminisces on his past in the Second Dimension. He recounts the time in which the Doctors placed him in the district Asylum to try and remedy his insanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Asylum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PengyChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PengyChan/gifts).



> Hi, everyone! This is my first fanfic in about 6 years, so please bear with me. I’ve had so many ideas about Bill and his past in the Second Dimension, so it was great to actually put one of my ideas on paper. I’d like to thank PengyChan for her awesome advice, and her beautiful story “Flat Dreams” (which you all should read at some point).
> 
> I decided to loosely model the district Asylum after the “Lunatic Asylums” of the past. It’s awesome to see how much we’ve progressed since then, isn’t it?

It was decreed from the Chief Circle that any citizen of Flatland who clouded their fellow Flatlanders’ minds with misguided information regarding the “Gospel of the Third Dimension” be severely punished for their wayward thinking. All regular Triangles were to be imprisoned, and any Shapes of higher rank were to be sent straightaway to the district Asylum. Such were the laws for normal Shapes in Flatland.

But Bill Cipher was no ordinary Triangle. This had been made known to all in Flatland from the day of his birth (from Isosceles parents, a rare occurrence that only proved to further the Law of Compensation). This particular Triangle was a small stroke of luck; a beacon to the Higher Class. His birth proved that _yes,_ one of a Higher Class could be brought from the wretched Lower Class; and yes, one day, the Perfect Shape would form from this evolution.

Why, then, was this perfect, Regular offspring acting so crude? Thoughts of disrupting the natural Order and Law of Flatland at such a tender young age – thoughts that had not vanished even with his regular schooling – were, to say the least, _unusual._

His parents had complained to their Doctor, a benevolent Pentagon, of the Equilateral’s behavior. After a long and grueling treatment with no foreseeable results, a panic began to stir within the good Doctor, and he decided to seek counsel from the Legislature.

Thus, in a rare yet completely rational occurrence, an Exception was made to the Law of Flatland. Bill Cipher was to spend one month in the district Asylum with his brethren of Higher Order. He was to receive the most intensive treatment to remedy his ill-thinking.

These were the days that came back to Bill later when he had overdone it on the Time Punch; when he was too drunk to even be drunk with happiness or power, and he was simply _drunk._ These were the days he remembered when he felt that disgusting feeling from his base all the way through to his top vertex. Never before had Bill felt anything similar to the month he spent in the Asylum.

They thought they were _helping._ Hah – what a load of garbage that was. His parents never cared for him. All they cared about was their stupid Holy Perfect Order of Law and Frilly Self-Righteousness. And so, his stupid, mindless parents handed him over to the stupid, mindless doctors for treatment of his “Unsatisfactory Mind.”

The doctors didn’t have room, time, or effort to make a proper diagnosis. All the Circular Priests really cared about was life with their own buddies. Treatment of the Lower Class was far from priority. _ADHD? PTSD? GAD, DID?_ Never heard of them. According to the doctors, Bill’s mind had a Sickness – a Sickness that could only be cured by their Remedial Therapy.

Bill could always tell when he hit his alcohol limit – when his form would start to convulse on its own, and he felt like his being was trying to murder itself from the inside out. He also knew he had reached his limit when he heard the screeching.

An army of high-pitched whines accompanied him wherever he went in the Asylum. It was a new project the higher-ups were trying with the wives of the Higher Class. “Remedial Therapy.” But it unnerved Bill to be in such close proximity with the Women at all hours of the day.

_Are they trying to kill me?_ This was what his frantic young mind would ask, when the screeching became too much to bear. He would often think about the stories he heard in class about Women killing their entire families. _If I’m gonna die, I don’t wanna die in here._

He missed his family – that was what he would tell himself, when he was scared out of his mind. He missed his family. But it wasn’t his family whom he had missed. It was the security blanket, the constant whir of sounds and movements that meant there were people nearby, that he wasn’t alone.

The Doctors had grown quite fond of locking Bill up. It started because of Bill’s sharp tongue and rash mind, but it grew in frequency as the month progressed. No one ever told him why, but Bill figured it was just so the Doctors wouldn’t have to look at him anymore.

The room they put him in was dark. It was so dark he could barely see his hand reflected in front of him. The scent of rubbing alcohol was so sharp it burned his eye. He swore he could feel little things crawling around his facial plane, but it was so dark and he was so scared, he might as well have been imagining it.

The Doctors put him in there for punishment, but also for Contemplation. They made sure to tell him that every single time they shut him in there. But what did Bill really have to contemplate, besides how much he wanted out of there? They would make him perform menial tasks day in and day out, and no matter what he did, the answer was always wrong.

_Now, Bill,_ the Doctors would say, _we know you are a good Citizen. We know you want to abide by the Laws of Flatland. It is our sole duty and purpose, after all._

_But there has to be MORE! Can’t you see how oppressive the whole system is?!_

_The Sickness has consumed you, but Reason will prevail._

Bill _hated_ that word. He hated Reason and everything it stood for. He also hated how it felt to be inside the Room they put him in, but he couldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort.

He always experienced the same weird feeling every time he was locked up. It was a deep push in his facial plane, as if someone wrung out his insides and hung them up to dry. He felt disoriented. His body was not his own, and there was a deep pressure in his chest that wanted to be released somehow, but it just _couldn’t._

What was going on with him?

They had to let him out after the month was up, but there was no notable progress on his condition. After much deliberation, Bill Cipher was given a new title: Certifiably Insane.

The Circles couldn’t imprison him or put him to death, for Bill was the hope of Flatlanders everywhere – Isosceles and Circle alike. But there was always something different about him; something _unhinged._

Bill never cared about being called Insane. It was just another title given by another bunch of know-it-alls. But the pervading loneliness still haunted him, even when he thought he had it under control. Those disgusting feelings always reared their ugly heads whenever Bill had too much time to think or too little to do. Those nights in the Asylum became his entire _life:_ except instead of rubbing alcohol it now smelled of burnt hair.

His mind would play games on him. It would try and tell him he had a good life in Flatland; why did he give it up?; why did he kill his family?; now he didn’t have anyone, and who was to blame but himself?

Bill Cipher never liked to admit it, but sometimes when he overdid it on the Time Punch and he was alone in the Nightmare Realm, he would whisper it to himself in the vast expanse of nothing before him.

Sure, he missed home… but there was no way he could ever return.


End file.
